Past Imperfect and Future Progressive
by ividia
Summary: "It's a jail break.  I understand you're good at that kind of thing."  Riddick raised an eyebrow.  "Perhaps you should elaborate."    Rating changed as more mature themes are occurring.
1. Prologue: Logan's Run

A/N: Recognizable characters, places, etc. belong to their respective copyright holders. All else is mine. This Logan came from a RPG and is based off the version the GM created.

Prologue – Logan's Run

BioScience Station Theta, Planet Epsilon III, year 2598

A quartet of two men and two women raced through the labyrinthine station. They moved in a fluid unison, their steps and strides matching perfectly. Turns and evasions happened without thought or communication. They had worked together for so long that a more cohesive unit could not be found anywhere in the universe.

Their boots thudded heavily in the corridor as they ran. Every few of steps, one of the four would fire a weapon behind them keeping their pursuers at bay. This went on for several minutes and several turns until one of the men dropped back a few paces. One of the women slapped the other two on the shoulders and said, "Keep going. Get to the ship and get her started up."

As she slowed her pace, they nodded and continued their dash, no longer pausing to fire behind them not wanting to hit their companions. She glanced to the man catching up with her.

"Logan?" she asked tremulously. She did not need to ask, really. She knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing she had been thinking. And they both knew he was the best suited to the task.

"I'll be right behind you, darlin'," he told her.

They both knew better. Her heart was in her eyes. Her expression said she wanted to argue, but she did not, only reached out to give his arm a quick squeeze. "You better be."

He stopped and watched her go as she returned to her former pace, a ground eating lope that quickly left him behind. She did not pause or turn around when his battle cry rang out or the sounds of fighting reached her ears. She only grimaced and kept going. Soon she was at the ship, the lowered ramp welcoming. The other man was waiting for her at the top of it.

"Where?" he asked.

"Buying us time," she replied. "How much left?"

"About ten."

"We wait five."

His head turned to the side a bit. "You got that, Em?"

Em's reply was tinged with a metallic tone as it came through the speaker by the open hatch. "Got it, Vin."

As each mark ticked by, a tightness set into her jaw. At the mark of three she joined Vin at the top of the ramp inside the hatch. Expression closed, Vin left her there as she brought the ramp in at four. At five, she closed the hatch, flinty eyes staring down the way she had come. The deck tilted under her as the ship lifted off and blasted away. She leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the hatch.

"You were supposed to be right behind me, you bastard," she said to the missing man, no venom in her tone only a deep ache.

* * *

Logan had seen the understanding in her eyes that he would not be joining them. She had communicated so much to him with that brief touch. He had wanted to wrap his arms about her and kiss her deeply, but there was no time. She and the others had to get away. He had watched her go, never looking back so she would not falter. She would do what was necessary and leave him there. But she would come back for him; she always did. It might take years, but she would find a way. God, he loved that woman.

He stood his ground, waiting out of sight around the bend of the wall. The tramp of their boots came closer. They moved cautiously, already having lost some of their number to their quarry's pot shots. He waited until they were fully visible before launching himself at them with a roar. He fired his weapon until it was empty, then tossed it aside. His hands clenched into fists, and his most deadly weapons appeared; three razor sharp metal claws slid out from between the knuckles of each hand.

The platoon was down to a quarter of their strength, but they knew reinforcements were just seconds away. They tried to surround him and stay out of range of those claws but were not successful. His speed and skill made quick work of them just in time for the reinforcements to arrive. It is not to say he was not wounded by them, but the wounds were not enough for him to notice.

In the end, it took most of six platoons to wound him enough to slow him down and subdue him. By that time he had already heard the thing he had been listening for; the blast of the engines as their ship lifted off. Even though they had him dead to rights, he could not help but smile a wide feral grin. His woman had gotten away, and he had not had a good drag down knock out fight in far too long.

She was all he thought about as they secured and dragged his broken and bleeding body to their holding cells. She was going to be pissed that he did not make to the ship, but she would be more pissed about missing all the fun. He would just have to make it up to her when she came for him. She would, and he would. And that was a thought that would keep the pain and the demons from overtaking him for however long it took.


	2. One: Hiring Houdini

One – Hiring Houdini

Kannan System, Planet K2, year 2600

It was mid-morning in K2's day. The rain forest jungle that blanketed most of the planet was steamy and already sweltering. Sweat beaded his bald head and bare arms, and he had to keep wiping the condensation from his goggles. Even so, he kept preternaturally still, maintaining his perch amidst the canopy with ease.

He could see the curved rise of their ship from his vantage point. The lower portions were obscured by foliage and moisture vapors. He could have seen more if he had ventured closer, but he would have had to give up his high ground.

He had watched as the craft had settled in, nestling among the towering trees like a great metal bird. He smiled in admiration. The pilot had skills. He heard the hiss of a hatch followed by the whine of an extending ramp.

Unconcerned about being heard, a woman's voice floated out of the jungle mists, "I like this planet. Reminds me of home."

Her statement was answered by a snort and a shifting of boots on metal. The others with her were quieter and kept their voices low, causing only rippled murmurs in the ground hugging clouds. Only her part of the conversation carried.

"I won't be long." A bark of laughter then. "Haven't stayed dead yet….Keep a light in the window."

He heard her move off from the ship and slip into the jungle below. Then there was only the normal hum of the jungle itself, as if she had become one with it. He could not track her passage by sound or the lack thereof. That intrigued him, and so he descended from his perch to the hollow hillock below. As large as he was he blended easily into his surroundings and melted into the cave opening to await her arrival.

He did not have to wait long, and he was not disappointed. She moved with the grace and stealth of a large hunting cat yet gave off no predatory vibes. The native fauna paid no heed to her passage if they noted it at all. She was dressed for the heat of the planet in tank top and loose pants, but it did not seem to bother her. Her olive skin was silky with moisture, and her face was framed by light layers of dark auburn hair flecked with silver. He saw the well defined muscles of her arms flex and ripple as she climbed to the top of a boulder near the cave entrance.

Once she stood on the boulder she half turned towards the cave. She comfortably wore weapons but none were drawn though they all showed evidence of long use. He could see by her expression that her eyes were focused on everything and nothing at the same time. Her head tilted back a bit as if she were scenting the air, and she slowly turned towards him. The rest of her body followed until she faced the cave completely. He was positive that she could not see him yet she seemed to be looking right at him. A corner of her mouth turned up. She moved across the boulder to come closer to the cave entrance.

When she spoke he noted that she had pitched her voice to precisely carry only to him, "Not looking for a payday. I'm wanting to hire Riddick, or, at least, buy information off of him."

He exploded out of the cave towards her, but she was gone in the heartbeat it took him to reach the boulder. She had jumped clear in a back flip so graceful she seemed to float through the air.

Laced with humor, her voice came from the other side of the big rock. "Was that a get lost or a test of my reflexes?"

A laugh burst forth from his chest. "I'll listen to your offer…after you answer a question."

She came around the granite, her feet easily finding purchase amount the shifting ground and slippery vines. "What's the question?"

He leaned a shoulder against the boulder and crossed his arms. "How?"

Her head tilted to the side as she appraised him. "You live in the jungle, but you're not a part of it. I know jungles. Your scent stands out. "

"Fair enough," he commented, a smirk on his lips. "And your offer?"

"It's a jail break. I understand you're good at that kind of thing."

Riddick raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should elaborate."

She pulled out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply before explaining. "The Epsilon penal facility attached to the BioScience station has something of mine. I intend to get him back. Your name came up as the only one to escape from Deep Storage."

"My name came up?"

"It was in the data we took from them. You where there. You know what they do. We were hired to get proof. He stayed behind to give us time to get away with the evidence. "

"Are you sure he's not dead already?"

"Positive. He's too valuable a specimen for them to kill even if they could figure out how to do it."

"Why? What makes him so valuable to them?"

"It's a BioScience facility. He is unique among men. He has the ability to regenerate from even fatal wounds, and he has a very special metal bonded to his skeleton. His senses are as acute as most animals if not more so. Where we're from he's referred as a feral."

"And you need me why?"

"Getting in is simple enough…getting out is another matter entirely, at least without blowing the place to hell…which I've been asked not to do..." The last part was grumbled. In her opinion places like that deserved to be blown to hell, and anyone who worked there along with it.

His eyes narrowed, only evidenced by the drawing together of his brows. "How much?"

"Two mil," she said without hesitation.

His jaw twitched. The amount surprised him. That was a hell of a lot of money. More than he was worth as a payday.

"That's more than most of the bounties on me," he remarked.

"Than all of them," she corrected.

"Half up front."

"Done."

There were two more things he had to know. "What is he to you other than 'yours'?"

She could fill in the rest on her own….that you would offer so much to get him back… "He is mine. I am his. We are mates."

"What's your name?"

"Madeline Marquesa Messijer Jacobs Turretto. Most just call me Madeline."

"We have a deal then, Madeline. When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready."

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the Epsilon penal facility, the man called Logan roared in pain and anger as they sliced a piece out of his chest. At first they tried to be somewhat humane by sedating him. Too bad for him anesthetic had never worked. So now they just did what they did with even pretending they gave a damn about his feelings, physical or otherwise.

They had learned early on to secure his hands in a way that made his razor claws useless. That did not stop his fists from clenching or the claws from extending. Past times long forgotten resurfaced, confusing him. _People poking and prodding at him, dissecting him, causing him great pain; floating in a vat of fluid with giant needles piercing his body, pain searing from the inside out._ Eventually his thinking mind shut down as a measure of self-preservation.

When he resurfaced he was back in the cell, his arms still restrained at the wrists making his claws pointless. He had no idea how long he had been here, had tried to keep track before, but they varied what and when meals were served, and the light always stayed the same. He mentally reached for the picture of his woman and saw her face overlaid by others he could not name.

The soldiers standing guard registered on his consciousness, but he saw drab olive instead of black and heads covered by red berets. One face kept coming to him, sometimes blond, sometimes brunette, always with the same piercing blue eyes even though the facial structure varied. He concentrated on that face, trying to remember why it was important to him.

Finally it came to him just before he was allowed to drift off into slumber. It was Leon, his stepson that he had raised since the boy was five. And he remembered why the other face kept mixing in. It was the face of Leon's birth father that the boy resembled more and more as he grew up. With the memory of Leon came the memory of his beloved Madeline who was racked with a terrible guilt the more Leon looked like Rene. Leon's death had nearly shattered her.

He thought she might have tried to will herself to death then if it had not been for their twin children, Emelia and Vincent. He knew she sometimes wished the regenerative mutation had never bonded with her DNA. It was hard to watch everything and everyone you knew fade to dust. That much he did remember from before she came into his life. She kept a good show up though, only allowing that part of her to be seen by him.

His fingers curled up again, not into fists but as if he could feel her skin under his hands. Her name slipped from his lips. _Madeline._ He imagined he could feel her arms wrapping about him as she buried her face into his chest. Those almond shaped hazel eyes would peek up at him from a fringe of dark hair, and she would murmur those words that meant so much to him. _Love Wolverine._

It was the thought of her that kept him from going completely feral as they subjected him to more experiments and tests. He hoped she would come for him soon…._Madeline…_


	3. Two: Mer Diable

Two – Mer Diable

It was a small ship she led him to, no more than a skiff really, squat and squared off but with a pointed, angular cockpit. Whoever was still on the skiff had apparently been watching for them evidenced by the ramp lowering as they came into the small clearing. Riddick halted and looked over the skiff. Madeline, already on the ramp, stopped and turned to watch him, watching his expression and body language. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head when he turned towards her.

"This won't make it to Epsilon," he said.

"No," she agreed, "it won't. It's just a lander. There's a corvette above the deck. Wouldn't have fit down here."

He nodded, satisfied with her answer and began the climb up the ramp. Another woman waited for them at the top. Her features were similar to Madeline's bearing out a familial link of some sort. He noted the dark eyes inspecting him, gauging him. Her nostrils flared as if she were scenting him. Whatever she thought she kept to herself, only waited for them to come all the way onboard before bringing up the ramp, her eyes constantly scanning the jungle beyond them.

"Watch your head," Madeline said. "Low upper. "

Riddick ducked his head to step through the hatch and onto the deck and found there was only a couple millimeters of clearance for him to stand up straight. The outer hatch slid closed and then the inner hatch irised shut.

Madeline indicated the other woman and introduced her, "My daughter Emelia."

"Riddick," Emelia greeted then looked to her mother.

"Good to go," Madeline said.

Emelia nodded, went the few steps forward and settled into the pilot's chair. There was no place for a co-pilot. It had the feel of a military drop ship with benches lining each side. Madeline dropped into the first seat on the right. Riddick took one opposite her. The lift off was as skilled and effortless as the landing he had seen had been. Admiration slid onto his face once more. Madeline noted it but said nothing only reaching to her right to toggle a comlink.

"On our way, Vin. How's it look up top?"

"All clear," a man's voice replied, "See you in a few."

The ship that waited for them in orbit was a tribute to organic based design. Its sleek lines boasted speed and versatility both in vacuum and atmosphere. Where the skiff was squat and angular, the corvette had fluid lines that ran almost seamlessly into one another and resembled an earth sea creature. The underside was mottled gray and white while top side was mottled gray and black. A black elongated dorsal fin ran from the rear of the cockpit through the tail and had in neat white lettering "EV Mer Diable".

"_That _was built on Earth?" Riddick asked with a somewhat incredulous tone, then added. "You are _from _Earth?"

No one was from Earth anymore, at least, no one ever admitted to it. As humans had spread throughout the galaxy and universe at large, Earth's importance became less and less until it was considered no more than an average backwater planter. Anyone who could get off did, and only the least fortunate were left. Not to say that some areas were not still well kept, but most of that was privately owned.

Emelia stifled a snicker, and Madeline laughed out right before replying, "No, she's just registered there. As for us, yes, we are _from_ Earth. My mate, my children and I were all born there."

Emelia brought the skiff in under the belly of the corvette and up into the body of the ship. It hovered inside momentarily then settled without a bump. The hatches opened, and the ramp opened exposing the interior of the corvette.

"Welcome aboard the Mer Diable, Mr. Riddick. If you'll follow me, I'll get you set up with a cabin and your down payment."

The inside of the ship was precisely laid out in a functional and defensible fashion. It was also obviously meant for long voyages with all the comforts of a planet based home. She led him to a cabin amidships. At first glance it was spacious but basic accommodations – a bunk and desk. A touch of some controls opened a wardrobe compartment, a private head and a cryo chamber. She brought up a basic schematic on a screen embedded in the wall above the desk.

"The bunk, desk and chair are all magnetized to the deck. The mil UD is there in the wardrobe. You have access to all the data we have on the Epsilon facilities as well as our general library. You can choose to use cryo for the trip to Epsilon or not."

She watched silently as he inspected the cabin, using a brief touch to count the UD. His back was to her, and her eyes roved his form, so familiar and so different all at the same time. She had noticed the resemblance in the images in the files. In person it was more pronounced. It was like looking at a ghost. The telling difference was in the way Riddick moved, full of barely restrained power. She was caught by a memory and heard the ghost's voice.

"Madeline," Riddick said, then repeated when she did not answer, her eyes distant, "Madeline?"

Her browed creased, and an odd light shone in her eyes. "Vincent?"

The voice of the man he had heard on the intercom came from the corridor, concern in his tone, "Moeder?"

Confusion flashed across her face, but she recovered quickly. "Are we enroute?"

The man who had spoken came up behind her and looked over her shoulder at Riddick while he answered. "We're headed towards Prima."

"Good. This is Riddick. Riddick, my son Vincent."

The two men nodded at each other. Vincent never took his eyes from Riddick. He frowned. "Are you sure this is a good idea, moeder? We could find another way. Pa…"

"No," she shook her head, interrupting him. "He's been there too long already."

Vincent thought about disagreeing, but he saw the set of her shoulders. He knew that when she made up her mind about something, there was no swaying his mother.

"As you say," he capitulated then continued on past the cabin.

Riddick had watched the exchange with curiosity. Her son's name was Vincent, but she had been speaking to him when she said it. There had been concern in her son's tone and eyes when he saw Riddick. He wondered at that. But he asked the question he first had on his mind.

"You don't mind me wandering around with everyone else in cryo?"

"I won't be in cryo. It's too much like being in a coma."

"You've been in a coma and remember it?"

"Yeah. It's either nightmares you can't wake up from or thoughts your conscious mind avoids. I've got lots of both."

"I could kill you and take over your ship."

She shrugged. "You could try. Even so, you won't. "

"You seem pretty confident of that."

"You're intrigued by us. We're like nothing you've ever seen before. You've studied people long enough to know that. We are all completely unafraid of you. You saw my son's concern for me, but not fear for me or of you. My daughter had the same concern, but she is better at keeping it out of her face."

"But it was me that caused the concern," he challenged.

"Not you, per se, but your appearance. You look very much like one of the men Vincent is named after."

"Which is why you called me Vincent?" It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes."

"Who was he?"

"An absolute genius with explosives, a dear friend…"

"And?" he prompted.

A corner of her mouth crooked up in a wry grin, "And one of my deceased husbands."

An eyebrow rose.

She shrugged, not willing to say more on the subject. "Make yourself at home. I'll be around."

With that she disappeared down the corridor. He put his pack on the chair then looked at the touch screen embedded in the wall. It displayed the floor plans of the ship. Not unsurprisingly he was denied access to more detailed diagrams. He smiled and went to looking at the overall layout. This level had the main flight deck, six cabins, a galley and large unmarked space at the rear as well as one in each wing. The level above had a small observation deck with the same unmarked spaces at the rear and in the wings. The level below held the shuttle bay with a cargo hold in front of it and a doge behind it. And again the unmarked spaces. He brought up a sectional side view and saw that the unmarked spaces were open between the decks.

"Interesting," he murmured.


	4. Three: The Pit

A/N: Thank you to my faithful readers and a special thanks to those who take the time to submit reviews. May the New Year bring you Bright Blessings.

* * *

Three - The Pit

When he next woke, the man that had been called Logan had all but disappeared. The beast known as Wolverine had taken over. He was a wary animal, mistrustful of all other humans...except one, his mate. But she was not here in this place of danger and pain. The small part of him that remained lucid was grateful for that. The animal whined for its missing mate.

He was no longer shackled but he was still caged, caged being a generic term. The floor was rough hewn stone, as were the walls that he could reach. Where there was no wall. a shimmering force field took its place. He did not know where he was, how he got here or how long he had been here. He only knew that he wanted out.

He crouched against the wall. His dark eyes darted about, suspicious. Nostrils flaring, he sniffed at the air then wrinkled his nose in distaste. Beyond the smell of the stone there was an electric scent to the air, like the kind after a passing lightning storm but not as clean, and under it all the smell of blood and human waste, both old and new. A growl emanated from low in his throat, and his claws slid out, adding the coppery scent of fresh blood.

He shook his head and pawed at an ear inadvertently scoring deep gouges in the wall behind him. The sub sonic hum of the force field grated on his sensitive hearing. They had given up on trying to keep him contained with mere metal. The stone floor and wall were many meters thick so they did not worry about him digging his way out.

Bright light appeared in the far wall as a door there slid open and people in uniforms or lab coats filed in. The coats all had data pads. An older man wearing glasses and in a military uniform came as close as possible to the force field. His appearance triggered a memory in Wolverine, and he roared towards officer, claws extended and snarling in rage.

Wolverine slammed into the force field and was held there a moment before being thrown back. He crashed hard against the stone wall, knocking the breath from him, and slid to the ground. Had he been a normal man, most if not all of his ribs would have been broken. The adamantium prevented that but not the burst blood vessels and bruising. But he also healed quickly and those were soon gone.

Growling, he pushed up from the floor and approached more cautiously this time, swiping out with his claws to test for the unseen thing that he had collided with before. He sized up the officer and then the others. The lab coats all furiously entered data on their pads. They noted he moved with a feral grace and seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that he was totally nude.

He heard them talking as he came closer but the words made no sense to him; it was just noise. He saw that the hairs on his arms stood up as he got closer to the irritating noise. He paced back and forth, testing the edges, how far he could go. He let out a snarl every time he passed by the officer.

"Isn't he amazing," the officer said. "Imagine what we could do with just ten of him. Has there been no luck with the cloning process, Doctor?"

One of the lab coats, an older stern looking woman, shook her head. "No, General, there has not. We cannot find any explanation for it either. We have been unable to get a viable embryo."

She was clearly frustrated. The General just had a thoughtful look.

"Perhaps we should try a more traditional method," he suggested.

The Doctor looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

He gave her a smug smile and motioned to one of his men who nodded in return. The man disappeared back through the doorway. Several minutes later he returned followed by other soldiers escorting three naked women. A break in the force field was opened and with some not too gentle encouragement, the women were made to enter the 'cage'.

"Ah," she said. "Good idea, General. I take it they have been treated with the enhanced hormones."

"Of course, Doctor, as has our specimen."

The women did not precisely huddle together, yet they did not move far from each other. They were confused, afraid, disoriented. They did not know each other only recognized that perhaps there might be safety in numbers. One gasped at the sight of Wolverine stalking about. He was not a tall man, but he was heavily muscled. His dark hair had not been cut since his capture, and it hung in wild tangles to his waist. His beard was uneven, seeming randomly chopped off. As he turned, his claws snicked out. One woman let out a squeak of fright. The sound garnered his attention.

Military and scientists alike watched with keen interest as Wolverine stopped at the sight of the women. His brow furrowed and sniffed at them. Their scents registered as female, and he became more interested. He closed on them, sniffing again. Now they did huddle together. The pheromones were strong, enticing, but something was wrong. _Mate?_ He sniffed again. No, the smell of fear rolled off of them. His mate did not smell of fear. She smelled of aggression with want and need in equal amounts, never fear. He growled in frustration and stalked away to a spot as far away from the women as possible. He crouched down and let out a plaintive whine for his mate.

The General and Doctor frowned and looked at each other in puzzlement. This was clearly not the reaction they had expected. The Doctor looked them over critically.

"They appear healthy," she remarked.

"They are," he replied to the not so subtle reference. "We had them checked out to your stringent standards. And I know the treatments took as I had to change the guards out to those with different tastes. What about his testosterone levels?"

Doctor speared the General with a glance. "They are off the charts. Apparently he is not as subjugated to his primitive instincts as we thought."

"Perhaps you're just using the wrong bait," a gruff voice said with derision.

Both turned to the speaker, a hard bitten older man who had seen many years of action and had been there at the man in question's capture.

"What do you mean, Sarge?"

Sarge's hard grey eyes looked from General to Doctor and back again. For smart people, they could be really fucking stupid. He grunted and shook his head at the thought, a shadow of which crossed his face. No one, not even the General, would call him on it; he held that kind of respect and value. He began to explain.

"You've had him for what? A year and a half, two? You've reduced him from a thinking, intelligent man to a mere beast, or so you think. He was already part beast when we brought him in. The claws alone should tell you that. And did _either _of you even watch the footage from the events surrounding the capture?"

At their blank expressions, he shook his head again and took a data pad from one of the nearby coats. "Un-fucking-believeable..."

He punched in some commands and waited, but continued speaking. "There were three others with him. They hacked in and disabled the security systems and cameras but we were able to circumvent some of their bombs and reactivate a few of the vid feeds. Never got a clear look at two of them, but we did get this..."

He turned the pad around for them to see. It showed the man in question at a slow lope and a dark haired woman he caught up to. They had a brief unheard conversation. Restoring audio had been a secondary concern. It was not their words that mattered, though, but their expressions. Sarge froze the recording and zoomed in on her face. He tapped the screen.

"You want her. If you can't get her, find someone as much like her as you can."

The General's eyes narrowed. "Do you know who she is?"

"I have an idea who she might be. And if it is who I think it is, we best beef up security. She'll come for him, one way or another. She's possessive that way."

"That could work in our favor," the Doctor commented, her mind churning with the possiblities.

"Or it could blow up in our faces," Sarge replied, deadly serious.


	5. Four: Fucking Mercs

A week into the trip to Epsilon, Riddick had determined those blank areas in the diagrams all had to do with engineering. It was not that big of a conclusion to jump to however he was curious as to what it all did as it took up at least fifty percent of the ship's mass. And then there were the kids, as Madeline called them, who were both getting ready to go into cryo. He had seen them busy going back and forth on the ship. He had not seen much of her though.

He wondered at that as he sat in the galley drinking coffee and perusing the information available on the portable data pad Vincent had given him. Emelia came into the galley and stopped upon seeing him. While you could see she was her mothers daughter, her male parentage was also stamped there on her in her squared off shoulders and stocky build. But it was mostly in the way she looked at things; her eyes, though the same color and shape as Madeline's, inspected everything with an animalistic intensity. Head tilted, she leveled that gaze on Riddick. He pushed up his goggles to return the stare.

Her gaze did not waver nor did she blink. "I understand you are putting off cryo for the time being."

He did not answer or reply only waited.

Her movements were fluid and powerful as she crossed the small space to stand on the adjacent side of the table. He imagined should could pack quite a punch. Hands curled into fists she leaned them on the table and brought her face within inches of his. "That means you will essentially be alone with our mother on this ship. If you hurt her in any way, I will take it out of your hide."

There was the sudden scent of fresh blood, but Riddick did not take his eyes from hers. "Your mother can take care of herself."

"Be that as it may, you have been warned," she told him before swiftly leaving.

Riddick looked down at the table and saw three small pools of blood where each of her hands had rested. He wondered at their origins. By the smell of the blood, it was obviously Emelia's. His brow furrowed as he considered it.

"I see Em's been through here," Vincent said from the doorway. The was a hint of patient humour to his tone. He grabbed a rag and came over to wipe the blood up. "I take it she warned you off our mother?"

"She did," Riddick admitted.

Vincent shook his head with a smile. Physically he was more like his mother than his sister was. Same build, same casual, cat-like, lithe grace, only his eyes were different, dark and hooded yet perpetually young and innocent. "Em can be...protective. Mind if I join you?"

Riddick waved at a chair. "Your ship."

Vincent washed the rag out in the sink, poured himself some coffee and returned to sit at the table. "Knowing Em she didn't offer any explanation."

Riddick shrugged. It made no difference to him. He was being well paid for his time.

Vincent wrapped his long thin fingers around his mug, considerations and thoughts chasing each other across his features. "Em is not concerned about you physically hurting our mother. I doubt there is anything you can do to her that has not already been done. She recovers from any physical hurt. But...there are some things you should know. Things that may become important to know."

"Em and I have a special bond with our mother beyond what is normal for mother and children. My earliest memories are my mother's from when we were in utero. Em has them too, but hers are emotional. It took us years to understand them, and when we finally did..."

Vincent sipped at the coffee and set it down. "The men I am named after, Vincent and Rene, were her husbands and both died on the same day. I remember that day. She was trying to save Rene but was unsuccessful. His neck broke, but not cleanly, and he lived long enough to say goodbye. Then she found out Vincent had fallen. Well, she went a little...mad...afterwards. She blames herself for their deaths, and, even though it was a long time ago, the guilt has never left her. She has already confused you for Vincent once. If it happens again, I ask you, man to man, to not allow it to continue."

Riddick leaned back and gave Vincent an inscrutable look. "You're worried I'm going to fuck your mother?"

"No, I'm worried about what will happen when she realizes she's not fucking Vincent."

With that somewhat cryptic statement, Vincent stood and left the area leaving Riddick alone to ponder the bizarre conversations that had just happened. The daughter threatened him if he hurt their mother, and the son... _Talk about a psycho-fuck family..._ Giving his coffee a glance, he went back to the data pad and things that made more sense. He gave up after awhile and started to wander the ship from bow to stern. He was on the lower level in the cargo area when he noticed the sound of weapons' discharge coming from the doge.

He drew his shivs and and approached stealthly. A beam from a pulse rifle headed in his direction but scattered and dissipated a couple feet inside the door. As he came closer he saw the shimmer of a containment field and what looked like a full fledged battle raging inside. And in the midst of it all Madeline was a spinning maelstrom of death taking out anything that came at her with any weapon that came to hand.

Those she fought hailed from every time and place and their weapons were as varied as they were. A spiked ball on the end of a chain flashed out and caught her in the shoulder spinning her. He saw her face twist in pain and anger. With her undamaged hand she pulled a shiny silver bullwhip from her belt and lashed out at the attacker. The end of the whip wrapped about his forearm, and she pulled the whip back with a snap depriving of him not only of his weapon but the lower part of his arm as well. In the instant immediately following, the battle environs and combatants vanished as well as the containment field.

The only evidence that remained was Madeline standing in the middle of the doge, one hand holding the silver whip and the other dangling uselessly as blood ran from her shoulder to drip on the floor. She began to curse at herself, "Stupid fucking bitch. Should have seen that coming. You fucking know better. Fuck!"

As she used a wrist motion to coil the whip on the floor at her feet she noticed Riddick watching her. "Fuck. You saw that, didn't you? Not a word to the kids. They already think I'm off my rocker."

"Need me to check the shoulder?" Riddick asked.

Picking up the whip and hooking it to her belt, she shook her head. "Nah, it'll be fine in a few. I heal up quick. I just need a drink now cause it hurts like a bitch. No more than I deserve for being an idiot though."

As if to prove her words she began to move the joint and the blood flow had all but stopped. The flesh and muscle seemed to be visibly knitting itself together.

"What the fuck are you?"

"That's the million dollar question, Riddick. Let me know if you figure it out. The science types never could, the ones that I'd let near me anyway. Come on, I need to set the cleaning bots to work."

She slapped a button on the wall as she led him out of the doge and to a small chamber to the side of it. There a small table and two chairs there. She slid a panel open and pulled out a plate of meats and cheeses and a two tall bottles of beer. She set the plate down and handed a bottle to Riddick then dropped into one of the chairs.

"What's on your mind?" she asked taking a handful of cheese.

_Where the fuck do I start? _He delayed by cracking open the beer and taking a long pull.

She watched his throat as he swallowed and licked her lips. His timing really could not have been worse. Battle frenzy was closely followed by another kind of frenzy. She wondered just how closely he resembled Vincent. Damn, but she needed to get Logan back. She opened her beer and drank trying to detour her thoughts in another direction.

He noticed the scent changed and gave her wary look. "What's my name?"

She laughed. "Richard B. Riddick. You've been warned about my general mental instability I gather."

"Yeah, some fucking party you're running here, boss."

She froze for a second, her beer halfway to her mouth. His word, inflection, tone, stance, everything a darker shadow of a time many years past. "Do us both a favor and don't ever say that again."

A brow rose. "And if I do."

"I may have to fuck you," she answered with complete seriousness. _I swear to every god that is, if he tells me to have faith, I will throw him down and fuck him. Ah, Vincent, my rock. I miss you._

Fortunately for them both Riddick was not a man of faith nor would he presume to tell anyone to have such. "You're a fucking psychopath."

Tension broken, Madeline let out the breath she had been holding and smiled crookedly. "No shit. Now that we've got that out of the way, what else is nagging at you?"

"That's a lot of engineering you've got here."

She shrugged. "I like big guns and big engines. Keeps the peace."

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the doge. "And your little entertainment center?"

"What of it?"

"No safety protocols?"

"I turn them off. Works better when actual damage can be taken. Keeps me sharp."

She was a special kind of crazy, the kind that embraced it. He could appreciate that. "What is it that you do that you need to stay that sharp?"

"Dirty jobs mostly. Shit people aren't willing to do themselves. Usually boils down to being a hired gun."

He stared at her a long moment. With disgust he said, "You're fucking mercs."

She raised her brows at him. "Not the kind you mean. We're old school, back from when it was an actual profession. We're soldiers, not bounty hunters."

"Soldiers, huh? What outfit?"

She took another long swig of beer and leaned forward. "Of the military in my day ninety percent wouldn't take me cause I'm fucking nuts, the other ten wouldn't take me cause I'm not swinging a dick. And there really isn't much call for a weapons specialist in civilian life."

"Then how'd you get to be a weapons specialist?"

"My father was an arms dealer. I field tested and demonstrated his merchandise."

"Is that what made you crazy?"

"No. According to the experts it was childhood trauma." She offered a shrug. "They could be right."


	6. Five: Bounties

a/n: yes, it has been a bit since the last update. life has a way of interfering. the saga continues. thank you for your patience.

* * *

Five - Bounties

The mating experiment having been a failure, Wolverine had been moved to a pit like cell, the only apparent access being through the force field at the top. Like any caged beast, he tested the limits of his prison, even using his claws the climb to the top only to be repelled by the force field. Those who held him did not speak to him, only about him. Though he listened he did not understand much of what they said.

There was one though, who spoke very little, only came to observe, and he stood above now. Something about him raised Wolverine's hackles. He growled and began to pace as the man's scent drifted down to him. His fists clenched and unclenched in rhythmic time.

Sarge looked down into the pit where the man was being held and scratched at his weathered chin. It had been his suggestion, and he had been tasked with putting it into action. He knew she would come for him. He just had to make sure they were ready when she did. Setting mercs on her was just a precaution, and, with the amount of the bounty, she was going to be the biggest pay day other than that Riddick bastard. He smiled to himself, knowing mercs were greedy and usually not all that bright. They would probably figure she was an easy mark. They would learn the hard way or die in the attempt.

One of his men came up and handed him a data pad. "It's all ready, sir. No name, just a picture and the amount."

"Good," he said as he accepted the pad and reviewed the information. "Good, put it to every station, bar and backwater that caters to mercs. Pay the extra to have it preempt any other transmissions."

"Yes, sir," the man answered but paused before walking away. "Excuse me, sir, but why no name?"

"In case it isn't who I think it is," Sarge answered.

The younger man looked at him, shrugged and continued on his way when it was clear nothing further would be said.

"In case it isn't Madeline Messijer," Sarge said as he looked back down into the pit.

He saw that the man had stopped his pacing to watch him. There was a snarl on his face, his hands were clenched into fists, the razor claws snicking out and in. Something about the man's raging animalistic stare unnerved the veteran, and he moved back out of sight.

Something Wolverine heard made him stop and glare upwards. His claws rang out as the powerful strokes of his arms embedded them into rock. His shoulders bulged with the effort of the climb, even still, he moved with an unnatural grace, unnatural for a man anyway. The sound of those claws carving in the solid rock rose from the pit, and soon the bestial face appeared just shy of the force field. He saw the one who had tried to step out of view and growled again.

Wary, Sarge looked over. The man beast had never responded to his presence before.

When Wolverine knew he had the man's attention, he spoke two words, the only thing he had said since his capture two years prior. "Madeline mine!"

Sarge did not think he had spoken loud enough for anyone to hear but apparently this one had. If nothing else, it confirmed his suspicions. He had a half grin as he said, "Of that I have no doubt, friend. It's what I'm counting on."

* * *

It was a long trip to Prima, more than enough time for Riddick to discover that Madeline really did cross over the edge on a regular basis. Near the end of it he was once again wandering the ship's corridors when a faint but pain-filled scream issued from the cabin he had discovered was hers. She stumbled out shortly thereafter looking haggard and worn with a bad case of the shakes and out of it enough to not even notice him. He followed her, his curiosity leading him on. She once again headed into the doge.

"Company," she croaked out as she just about fell into the room.

The room changed, morphed from a doge into a nondescript bar in the midst of a jungle populated with a bevy of soldiering types having a good time. She held onto the edge of the door and stared in, just watching. Riddick came up behind her, close enough to see over her shoulder. He scanned the small crowd seeing two faces he recognized, one was hers, the other like his except open, friendly and laughing.

The scene continued on until she told it to freeze. Unsteadily she walked into the scene, brushing her fingers across faces, whispering words that once held great meaning to both speaker and listener. Finally she returned to her place at the doors, and said "Continue."

It was then that Riddick realized she came here to relive a memory. He continued to observe until it became unbearably intimate. As he turned away, he saw that she had noticed him finally. The look in her eyes was somewhere between recognition and madness.

"I don't know how," she told him.

"How what?"

"To have faith, like you," her voice cracked a bit but she corrected herself. "...like Vincent always said."

"Can't help you there," he replied.

"Can you help me with a case?"

He frowned. "A case?"

The madness had receded but a glimmer of it was still there. "A case of scotch. I hate drinking alone."

"Drown your sorrows?"

"Take a damn sight more than a case, but, yeah, that's the general direction. Thirsty?"

He did not answer, only stared down at her, or at least that is what she assumed he was doing since she could not see his eyes. Of course, the program was also still running. She glanced back over her shoulder towards it. "End program."

The images vanished and the small round doge was once again seen. Madeline pushed off the door jamb and past Riddick. His inclination was to brush her off and observe from a distance without her knowledge but that superior instinct of his knew it would not happen that way.

Instead he found himself once again in the small room off the side of the doge with a mad woman and a case of 200 year old scotch. Without preamble or glassware, she handed him a full bottle and broke one open for herself. She had downed half of it before he had even bothered to open his.

"The bitch thing about this accelerated healing, it's fucking difficult to get good and drunk," she said just before downing the rest of the bottle and cracking another.

Riddick kept a careful eye on her as he drank and throughout the rest of the trip to Prima.

* * *

Emelia headed to the cockpit straight after waking to verify their location and time to dock. Vincent was already there polling the news comms and sheets.

"Morning, Em," he greeted as she passed by him.

"Evening, Vin," she returned as she dropped into the pilot's seat. "Anything interesting."

"Just the normal stuff so far."

"We're on target for landfall. Did you check on her?"

"Yes. All five by five. Only one case of scotch is gone, but maybe she had help this time"

"I don't think even Riddick could keep up with her."

"I didn't try," he said from behind them, one shoulder leaning against the frame of the open hatchway.

They did not exactly whirl in their seats to start at him, but they did turn quickly. No one outside of immediate blood relations had ever been able to come upon them unaware. Their estimation of Riddick went up a notch, and at least one of them thought that maybe they could pull this off without blowing the place to hell. Emelia then noticed Madeline stand a hand's breadth back from Riddick, looking inordinately please with herself with a look of "I told you so" on her face. Emelia growled and returned her attention to her piloting.

"Oh, hell..." Vincent said suddenly.

"What?" the two women asked.

"Shit," Emelia swore as she saw the wanted sheet Vincent brought up on the display.

"It's perfect," Madeline said as she slid by Riddick to get a closer look. "Now we have precise directions and a way in. Is there a sheet from them on Riddick?"

Vincent plied his skill with the data and came up with one. "There is, but it's old. And the amount is paltry compared to what the slams are offering, only one fifty."

"Fucking insulting," Riddick rumbled.

Madeline laughed and glanced back over her shoulder at Riddick. There was no longer and sign of the madness. Instead the woman he had first met was firmly in control. "Care to collect on a bounty?"

He tilted his head at her. He had a pretty good idea what the answer would be, but he asked anyway. "Being chained up won't bother you?"

She snorted. "Sure as hell wouldn't be the first time."

There were entirely too many ways that could be interpreted, and Riddick was positive he did not want to know...just yet. On the other hand, the simplest interpretation could also explain a great deal of the madness. He had seen what being chained up or caged could do to person even before he himself had been on the receiving end. "What's the plan?"


End file.
